The Price We Pay for Love
by Oakmoss
Summary: 5 years after the war, Snape is headmaster of Hogwarts and Hermione has become the charms mistress and a Weasley. Then the worst happens. Starts out RW/HG but very much SS/HG. Character death and no Ron bashing. OOC SS.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"My congratulations, Mr. Weasley," he said amiably and shook hands with the groom. Ah, 5 years of peace had softened him. He could still snarl, but it was no longer his only means of expressing himself. In fact, he could be really rather charming when he felt so inclined. Tonight, he thought he could get away with a few niceties. This was Granger after all. He liked Granger. He owed Granger.

"Thanks Snape," Ronald beamed proudly. "And thank you for allowing me to live at Hogwarts."

"Yes well. It was that or finding a new charms teacher. Your wife is quite... gifted. I would hate to have to settle for someone less talented."

"High praise from you, Snape. You should tell her that. She'd love to hear it. As a wedding present?"

"You will find that the large blue box with the silver bow contains the 10 inch cast iron casserole dish that was on your registry, Weasley. My gift-giving duties have been fulfilled."

"You're not supposed to say, Snape! You're ruining the fun of unwrapping. As long as you don't tell 'Mione... Speak of the devil, hello love."

Hermione leaned up and kissed the tall ginger gently on the lips. Her fingers drifted over his jaw and then she turned and smiled at Severus. She looked every bit the blushing bride, he had to say. She'd chosen a muggle wedding dress rather than robes, but the ceremony had been according to wizarding traditions. He found the combining of their heritages quite touching. He was loath to admit it, but they did make a lovely couple. There was of course no arguing about who wore the trousers in the relationship, but they seemed... happy. Deliriously so. He envied it, naturally. It was everything he'd missed out on. He didn't feel the need to crush it though. They deserved it, she especially.

"Hello headmaster," she said respectfully, "don't tell me what now?"

"It's a secret," he replied and received a grateful smile from Ronald.

"I see. Conspiring against me. Very well, say no more, I can take a hint. Are you well, professor Snape? You must try the red wine, I think you'll like it. You do prefer red, don't you?"

"Indeed, the red is excellent. Not elf-made?" he questioned. He witnessed Hermione's hand reaching for Ronald's and their fingers entwining.

"Oh no, muggle. My father chose it, he's a bit of a wine buff. He's over there, you should go chat to him. You'll be alright, promise, he's not a dunderhead."

"He is a dentist though. Don't let him see your teeth," sniggered the redhead.

"Ronald! Don't be rude!" she gasped.

"It was a joke, love," soothed Ron, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.

" 's not funny. Apologise," she scolded and her forehead held a deep line.

"Ah. I'm sorry, love."

"Not to me," she griped.

"Right. I'm sorry, professor. I didn't mean to offend. Sometimes I open my mouth and things just come tumbling out. Sorry, again."

"Think nothing of it. I've heard worse," Severus dismissed the matter gracefully. He had. He knew his teeth were crooked and yellow, but they were healthy. He also didn't want to be the cause of the Weasleys' first domestic.

"Thank you," she said to her new husband and kissed him again. "We should mingle," she continued, "do enjoy yourself, sir."

"Ah, to the best of my abilities, I shall. I don't do parties well, Granger."

"Weasley, professor."

"Of course. Weasley. Like I said, not much of a party person. I appreciate the invitation though and I wish you both all the happiness in the world."

"Aww, how sweet!" sighed Hermione delightedly and clasped Ronald's hand tightly.

"Bloody hell, Snape, when did you become so suave?"

"Around the same time you developed a vocabulary that contained suave, Weasley."

"And we're back to the insults. A leopard doesn't change its spots, I suppose," snorted Ronald but the blissful smile was still plastered on his freckled face.

"Indeed. Well, Mr. Weasley, professor Weasley. Enjoy your honeymoon. I trust you will be back before the start of term?"

"Of course. Where would you be without your charms mistress and a Weasley to taunt?" she laughed heartily and the couple left to greet other guest.

"Lovely wedding, isn't it?" mused Arthur Weasley.

"Hrm," he agreed, sort of, and accepted another glass of the rather marvellous red from a passing waiter.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Oh lordy, this was a pain to write up. I wanted a chapters to illustrate the changed Hogwarts after the war, but I keep getting distracted by shiny plot bunnies that take me down all sorts of rabbit holes. Oh well. I'll roll with it. ;)

**Chapter 2  
**

It was at the head table in the great hall that he sometimes caught glimpses of Hermione Weasley, née Granger. The charms mistress would only attend when Ronald wasn't there, otherwise they'd take their meals together, in her quarters. But Ronald was absent regularly, his work as an auror requiring him to periodically go on prolonged missions. He would stay away for days on end and Severus would find Hermione chatting to various colleagues on these occasions. Tonight, she had taken a seat between Aurora Sinistra, who still taught Astronomy and had taken over from Filius as head of Ravenclaw, and Minerva McGonagall. As such, Hermione was now only one seat away from Severus and that allowed for very easy spying. Of course he had to listen in, how else would he be able to live up to the reputation of a certain omniscient headmaster that preceded him?

"How long will he be gone for this time, Hermione?" asked Sinistra.

"Just a few days, he reckoned," said the young Gryffindor teacher.

"But?" asked the deputy headmistress, who'd always been good at reading Hermione. Not that that was such an exceptional feat, the girl wore her heart on her sleeve, as was wont for Minerva's cubs.

"But it's hardly a reliable time scheme, is it, a few days? I try not to worry. Really, I do. I mean, Ron was an auror before we married and it would be rather hypocritical to now ask him to get a different job, but yes, of course I worry. I just wish I knew when to expect him back, you know. If I had a schedule, I might not worry until he was late. Does that make sense at all?"

"A little," smiled the older Gryffindor witch mildly. "Although I doubt you'd stop worrying, Hermione. You're not half as rational as you imagine yourself to be. And it's only normal to worry about your husband. Are you sure he wouldn't consider transferring to a less... high-risk department?"

"And do what? Desk work? Ron as a paper pusher? Have you met him, Minerva? He's got no talent for it whatsoever and he'd be bored out of his mind within an hour. No, I could never ask that of him. He loves his job. He's a brilliant auror, says Kingsley, and I realise I'm being silly, but... I can't help it. I guess I understand how it feels to be married to a policeman."

"A what now?" asked Sinistra who had had never had much to do with the non-magical world.

"Er. Muggle aurors, pretty much. Although that rather ruined my comparison," said Hermione with a small smile. "It'll be fine."

"Of course it will. He won't take any unnecessary risks. He's got someone to come home to now."

"Aww, Aurora! That's so sweet!" cooed Hermione.

Sickeningly so, thought Severus, but he said nothing. The astronomy teacher shrugged and smiled.

"So how is everyone, Hermione? I haven't seen Harry since he started his one-on-one training with Kingsley. Is he still set to be the head of the aurory department?" Minerva enquired after her golden boy.

"Oh yes, Ronald can't stop talking about how it's going to be just like the old days with Harry in charge and him doing the legwork." Hermione rolled her eyes at this. For years she'd resented the all too convenient profiling of Harry as the bravado, Ron as the brawn and herself as the brain. Severus knew this as he felt similarly miffed by the caricatural portrayal of himself as a misunderstood tragic hero.

"And they're expecting again. Their third is due in May."

"Oh, how lovely! They must be over the moon?" asked Minerva.

"Naturally. Harry especially. He's always wanted a large family. And he is brilliant with James and Albus."

"Fatherhood suits him," conceded the Scottish woman.

"So what is it to be? Another boy?" asked Aurora Sinistra.

"They wouldn't say."

"Oh, definitely a girl then," laughed McGonagall.

"That's what I'm thinking," simpered Hermione.

"And Ronald and you? Are you thinking of...?" Minerva prodded indelicately. Gryffindors... No subtlety whatsoever.

"Whoa, Minerva! Slow down. I've only been married 3 months! Let us enjoy each other first. Some day, definitely. But to be honest, I think we both have too much going on right now to give a child the attention it deserves. And I don't feel up to it yet. I know for Harry and Ginny it's... right, but I honestly can't see myself stuck neck-deep in nappies yet. Eventually, I'd love a family, but not right now. I'm only 24. A year older than that if you take the time turner into account, I suppose. But still, plenty of time before I need to start worrying about biological clocks and that."

Severus was gratified to see his most promising teacher display such sense. What a waste of a brilliant mind it would be if she devoted her time only to populating the planet with even more Weasleys.

"But does your husband feel the same?" questioned Aurora sceptically. Apparently she shared her employers impression of the Weasleys' ingrained need to further their line.

"Oh yes, we talked about it before the wedding of course. I was initially a bit worried he would want to start a tribe of his own. I mean, being a Weasley. But no, he's in no hurry and he doesn't want me to pop out one after the other. Said he'd rather have one or two. I guess he's always felt a bit... overlooked, being part of such a large family."

"Ah. That's good. I'm glad you're on the same page, I did wonder," nodded Aurora Sinistra.

"It's a shame," mused Minerva. "I'd love to see Hogwarts house children again."

At this, Severus could not hold back a loud barking laugh that rumbled through the Great hall and startled the students into gaping goldfish. Occasionally they had seen their headmaster chuckle or snicker, and his taunting smirk was infamous, but this overt mirth was an extraordinary rarity.

"Children? What do you think those are?" he snorted, pointing at the house tables in front of them.

"It's very rude to eavesdrop!" huffed his second-in-command.

"Headmaster's prerogative," he replied smoothly, "I learned it from the master."

Minerva shook her head exasperatedly and he just caught Sinistra winking at Hermione who giggled happily.


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: character death. Hey, you knew it would happen sooner or later.

Standard issue transitional chapter, coming right up.

**Chapter 3**

As he was reflecting on the need to update the Magical History curriculum and how he was ever going to get the professor that taught the class to agree to that, he heard heated shouts coming from the entrance hall. The Weasleys, he identified. It didn't occur to Severus to turn back and grant the couple privacy. That wasn't his style. He'd intended to go to the East wing to speak with Binns and so he would. He continued on and the indistinct screeching gradually turned into words.

"CALM DOWN, RON? CALM DOWN? DOLOHOV? ARE YOU INSANE? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE YOU? WHAT THE HELL IS HARRY THINKING?"

"HARRY? DON'T YOU BLAME HARRY! I VOLUNTEERED!"

"YOU WHAT?"

"I VOLUNTEERED! I'M DOING THIS FOR YOU!"

The screaming ended abruptly and a very angry Hermione Weasley came thundering down the hallway towards the headmaster, her arms flailing wildly and her muttering under her breath. The snippets that he caught were particularly nasty things that she held in store for her husband's bits.

"Good afternoon professor," greeted Severus as if he were completely oblivious to the argument that had caused such trouble in paradise.

Hermione huffed, pushed past him and stomped along, still murmuring all sorts of profanities.

Severus quirked an eyebrow, momentarily watched Hermione pound away from him and then entered the Great Hall where Ronald Weasley stood sorely rubbing a red cheek.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley."

"Alright, Snape," said Weasley vaguely, looking straight past him at the corridor Hermione had just stalked through, away from him.

Severus nodded his head and left the distracted auror to his thoughts. He had a ghost to speak with.

* * *

When professor Weasley appeared for breakfast the next morning, it was clear that she hadn't slept much, if at all. She had taken a seat on the end of the head dais, next to Megaera Thorne, the current Defense teacher. The fourth one in his five-year tenure as reinstated headmaster. The first go didn't count, for obvious reasons. He had not rejoiced so much as when the woman returned for her second year in the post last September. Perhaps she hadn't the wartime experience that some of the previous candidates had had, but none of those had lasted. And she was qualified. For now that was enough. As long as the lessons were taught up to standard... He recalled Callahan, who had let the students fight boggarts. ALL YEAR LONG. Since that failure, he had started to keep a much closer eye on the staff's performance. This meant that he'd sit in on every class at least once per term. He smirked as he realised how much a similar practice would have annoyed him if he were still teaching.

It was at that point that his daydreaming was interrupted by two uniformed aurors stepping into the Great Hall. It took exactly one blink to discern Harry Potter behind the pair, his eyes downcast. Severus rose to greet the officials, but they ignored him and walked up to Hermione. The two aurors parted like the red sea and the boy who lived stepped forward, between them.

"Harry!" smiled Hermione and sprang to her feet to greet her friend.

"Don't," he said softly and his grave expression stopped her in her tracks and so she just stood behind the table. "For Merlin's sake, don't. I- Hermione... I'm so sorry."

The head of the Auror Department held out his hand. In it lay a 10 and a half inch whitecedar wand. While the wand in itself wasn't spectacular by any means, the ritual presenting of a wand was something most witches and wizards recognised. There was a collective gasp from the head table and then the entirety of the Great Hall was nothing but stunned silence.

"I suppose George put you up to this?" she smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Hermione, please. It- It's not a joke. It- it-he's- I'm sorry..."

"That's not funny, Harry," she said, her voice faltering a little now.

"Hermione... I- I don't- I don't know how- I never thought- Do you need me to say the words?"

Hermione nodded her head and Harry bit his lip, then nodded in assent, cleared his throat and began a practised speech that no one should ever bear witness to.

"It is with deep sadness and regret that I inform you that your husband, Ronald Bilius Weasley, was killed-"

"Enough!" she snapped. Her caramel eyes had gone cold and hard and her breathing was shallow and laboured. Her hands firmly gripped the table as if to ground herself.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry."

"Did he get him?" she questioned after a long and laden silence in which she just stared at Potter.

Harry tilted his head to the side and his eyes narrowed.

"Hermione, Ron is-"

"Did. He. Get. Him?"

The Chosen One nodded his head once.

"Good. At least he didn't die for nothing." Her voice was icy and even now, with not a trace of the waver that they had heard earlier. Hermione looked to her side at her colleagues. Severus was still stood and he assumed that's what drew her attention to him.

"I'm going to need a few days leave, professor," she whispered and then turned and left the Great Hall through the door behind the head table.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Four days later, Severus Snape found himself in the Burrow with a glass of firewhiskey in his right hand. The domicile was bursting at the seams yet felt serene in the aftermath of such a harrowing morning. The grief-stricken family were sat around the kitchen table, with the newly widowed Mrs. Weasley glass-eyed on one end, flanked by two muggles that Severus recognised as Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Potter sat sullen and withdrawn on the other end next to his wife. Around the table a circle of close friends, mostly former classmates of the thundering threesome, had formed. And then, spread across the ground floor of the Weasley dwelling were the other order members offering sympathetic words of comfort to the aurors that had come to pay their respects to their fallen colleague. Severus on his part had found a shadowy corner where he could distance himself from the mourners and quietly observe. He was waiting for the time to pass until it would no longer be considered rude to leave.

He mentally went over the events that had led him to this point. He recalled Minerva grabbing her Golden boy along with her as she rushed after the stricken charms teacher. He had taken the two other aurors up to his office and had held a calm conversation about the arrest: Dolohov had cast an unknown curse on Ronald Weasley. It had apparently been slow and no doubt painful, but it had given the young auror time to stop the death eater with a stunning spell before he succumbed to his injuries. Silver linings was perhaps too strong an expression, but it was fortunate that the bastard at least hadn't gotten away.

He remembered accompanying the group of bereaved Weasleys to Hermione's quarters so they could discuss the necessary arrangements. Arthur and Molly with their hands clasped tightly together, Ginevra and Harry Potter, Fleur and William, Charlie, George, Percy and his wife Audrey, who Severus had never met before. And they'd all hugged Hermione tightly and sobbed on her shoulder. She had remained stoic and beckoned them in, one by one.

He had seen her again two days later, on his midnight patrol. She was sat in her usual corner of the library amidst a pile of books, breathing deeply with her eyes closed.

_"Professor Weasley? Are you well? Shall I take you to Poppy?"_

_"I'm fine," she rejected his concern. "Do you read poetry, professor?"_

_"Um..."_

_"You see... I- I can't decide. Molly wants me to read something for the funeral. Would you- would you read these and... tell me what you think? I'm supposed to pick by tomorrow. They expect something personal." She thrust a book in his hands and he noticed the small colourful pieces of plastic sticking out on the sides. Bookmarks of some sort. Muggle things. He watched her sigh deeply and frowned._

_"Professor Weasley," Severus said calmly. "Molly wants? You're supposed? They expect? I cannot help but wonder... is this something you wish to do?"_

_She looked up at him._

_"They want me to be involved in the service."_

_"Yes. But what do you want?"_

_"I- I want to just ride this out and be left alone. I need to be alone. They're driving me mad with their eyes full of pity and their _poor Hermione_s. I know they mean well and I know I'm being unduly harsh. They are in just as much pain. But... I can't stand to be around them," she confessed._

_"I'm rather surprised you've not felt that way sooner," he smirked. Oh Merlin, could he have been any ruder? "Circe, I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"_

_"No, professor, it's quite alright. Everyone is already fussing so much over me. Minerva keeps hugging me. Poppy's brought me calming draughts. Do I not seem calm?" She didn't wait for him to answer which was good because at this point, she sounded rather agitated. "Everyone keeps saying they're here if I want to talk about it, but I can't even bare to think about it! No, I'm glad you at least are not being ridiculously delicate with me."_

_"I see. Well then, allow me to give you an indelicate piece of advice, professor. Be selfish. Right now, you don't have to do anything. Nothing. You must grieve however you see fit, not how others want you to. Don't let your family pressure you. Do what you need to do and forget what everyone expects."_

_"Oh," she said. "I-I'll keep that in mind, professor. I- I've been meaning to ask. What- what is happening with my classes?"_

_"Independent study in the library for now. Filius has agreed to read and mark the essays but... ah, I'm going to have to be indelicate again. How long do you think you shall be... away? I only ask because I'd like to know if I need to start thinking about finding a proper substitute."_

_"Oh no. No, I would like to- I'd like to get back to work soon. Maybe... maybe give me another week after the funeral? And then I'll get back in the saddle?"_

_"If you are quite certain, professor Weasley. A week is not much."_

_"I know. But I think I need to keep busy. Keep calm and carry on and that."_

_"Quite. Should you change your mind though, tell me. I won't bite. Contrary to popular belief, Vampirism is not for me."_

_She gave him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes and then got up._

_"Good night, sir."_

_"Good night, professor," he replied._

At the funeral, she had not read anything.


	5. Chapter 5

AN:To write is to edit. I honestly write my chapters easily but then spend days prodding them with a very pointy stick and some pruning shears. I can never tell if I actually improve upon the original or just make it sound poncy though. xD Anyway, next chappie! Hope you enjoy.

**Chapter 5**

Like had been the case at many funerals he had attended, the ambiance had gradually shifted. First there had been only sorrow and tears. Then the stories had come, the reminiscing, and as memories were shared, the atmosphere lightened. There was restrained laughter, as if the listeners were uncertain that such merriment was permitted.

Severus paid little attention to the tales, instead he watched her. Her hands were lying on the table top, wrapped around a cup of tea, fingers restless. Her right thumb and middle finger kept twisting and pulling at the thin wedding band on her left annulary. Those absentminded drifting fingers exposed her emotional state. It wasn't unusual for Hermione's hands to be preoccupied, to be playing with whatever happened to be available to them but this fussing was symbolic. Snape wasn't the only one to take notice. Mrs. Granger's hand drifted over her daughter's and stroked the fondling digits without stilling them. Hermione looked up at her mother. The middle-aged woman leaned in, kissed the temple of the curly-haired lass and spoke a simple "I love you." Hermione's brown orbs darted back down and she looked completely numb again. A worried look flew between the pair of dentists.

George finished his account chuckling a droll: "And of course he never stole from old Flume again!" Hermione's lips curled but her eyes remained hollow. Her smile was a capitulation to social expectations. She realised that the anecdotes were meant to soothe and abate and so her mild mien displayed the aspired improved mood. Those empty eyes however betrayed that none of the consolatory words were reaching her broken heart. She heard them, but they meant nothing.

"More tea, anyone?" offered Potter and he cautiously glanced at Hermione who was still fingering the cup. She didn't acknowledge him, wouldn't even look at him and suddenly Severus understood. She was blaming Boy Wonder for her husband's death. It made sense, after the argument he'd caught the night before the unfortunate raid. Hermione Weasley had thought it was a suicide mission and of course now it was clear that she hadn't been wrong in her assessment, but hindsight was 20/20.

"Hermione?" asked Potter explicitly now.

"No, thank you," came an icy reply. Her eyes told the same story but in different words: there was no cold, frosty distance there but instead a fiery, blazing fury. If looks could kill, Hermione would have succeeded where the Dark Lord himself had failed so many times.

"Hermione..." tried Potter with a deep sigh.

"What?" she snapped and the Auror who lived - pun unintended and grossly inappropriate, Severus immediately interrupted his inner monologue. Gods, he was a sick fuck sometimes - threw his wife an anguished look. Ginevra shook her head almost imperceptibly and mouthed "Leave it."

Potter glanced from Ginevra to Hermione and sighed again.

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Truly. I am," he said, hung his head and made his way over to the kettle for that refill. Hermione scoffed and turned her face away and the light in those caramel pools faded once again. Severus couldn't help but feel sorry for the lad. Somehow, despite what he'd overheard, he had thought that she would gravitate towards her best friend and they would work through the pain together. Wasn't there some inane saying about doubling joys and halving grief with friends?

Neville Longbottom cleared his throat and drew the room in. Longbottom's subtle but adept claiming of the floor evoked more flashbacks in Severus Snape. How he had grown up, commanding a everyone's attention like that... What was once a clumsy, anxious and sluggish wisp of boy, now was a man, a man who had earned the feared professor's respect slowly and painfully.

The first time that Severus had been forced to alter his views on the terror of the potions class had been when the fourteen-year-old had advised Harry Potter to use Gillyweed for the water trial in the Triwizard Cup. That was the turning point: the moment in time when Severus realised the boy wasn't just biding his time in the prestigious school. He did have talent. Potions just wasn't it.

This epiphany did not hinder Severus in his harsh treatment of the dunderhead though. Longbottom was not a potions prodigy and that in itself was something Severus might be able to accept, but his lack of sense in the subject was at times downright dangerous and rigid discipline was fundamental in ensuring a safe classroom. He did change the nature of the boy's detentions. He'd replaced the standard cauldron cleaning duties with sorting and labelling ingredients, something Mr. Longbottom was actually rather brilliant at: he could tell a deer mushroom from a leaden entoloma in the blink of an eye. Severus had always needed to double check that particular fungus with an identification spell himself.

Then there had been his first year as head of Hogwarts. Longbottom and his friends had rebelled and had done so with fervour and determination. It had been risky; provoking the Carrows had severe repercussions and Severus could only do so much to stop the torturous punishments that their sick, twisted minds would come up with. But he had pretended to be oblivious to the safe haven that the Room of Requirement had become and had sent as many disobedient students to Hagrid for detention as he could get away with.

Having to cover the children's tracks as they opposed the new authority had made Severus's life incalculably more difficult in those days but he had admired the insurgent urchins for their persistence and yes, bravery. As much as Severus generally ridiculed the much lauded Gryffindor courage - it was too often used as a euphemism for careless pigheadedness- he had taken secret pleasure in witnessing the DA students hold their own that year, never submitting to the dark madness that ruled the school with an iron hand.

He had been awed when he was told of how the boy had renounced Voldemort despite the despair they must have all felt when Harry was brought to them, presumed dead, and had singlehandedly lit the flame for the Light again with his rousing, defiant words. In the Subsequent battle, to substantiate his contempt for the megalomaniac, Neville Longbottom had trimmed the overlord's pet by several inches. Yes, the herbologist had become a man of honour in that final year, and Severus was pleased to see that the young man was still worthy of the improved esteem Snape held him in as he raised a heartfelt toast.

"To Ron. In death a hero, as in life a friend!" said Longbottom borrowing Alexander Pope's words.

"To Ron."

Severus raised his glass with all the other attendees, thoroughly impressed with the chosen quotation. Hermione broke. Shimmering crystalline droplets inched their way down her cheeks, accompanied only by quiet whimpers. It was Mr. Granger's hand that landed on her shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. Harry cried with her but did not dare approach her. He was offered solace by Ginevra, her arm curling around her spouse and cradling him against her shoulder. Severus thought that Potter looked worse now than he had in all his years running from he who must not be named. At the loss of his best friends, he looked like he'd been given the dementor's kiss and it was a sad sight indeed.


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Thank you for your lovely reviews. They do encourage me to keep going with this story, even if it is slow torture. Ah well, brought it on myself, didn't I?

**Chapter 6:**

He knocked on the door and waited for Hermione Weasley to open it. When the door swung on its hinges, he was struck by her dishevelled appearance. She was dressed in simple black leggings and a baggy grey jumper - a hoodie, he corrected. It was at least 3 sizes too large for her and hung loosely around her figure. It reached halfway down her thighs. Then he wondered if it had been Ronald's. That would make sense, likely she was drawing some sort of comfort from it. As he realised that he was gawking at her, he inwardly chastised himself for his appalling manners and snapped out of it. He willed himself to put on his poker face.

"Mrs. Weasley, good afternoon. The house elves said you had returned."

"So I have, but I'm not sure I appreciate being spied on," she retorted softly and her eyes narrowed.

"I only asked them to inform me of your arrival because I have these for you," he explained.

He waved his wand, wordlessly performing a simple conjuring spell. A jute sack brimming with envelopes and parchments materialised from the tip of the wand and hovered a few inches above the floor.

"Condolences, I suspect," he said. "Where do you want them?"

"Gods..." she murmured and stepped aside to let him pass. "Erm. Maybe next to the table?" Severus levitated the bag to the spot she'd suggested and finished the enchantment on it by a flick of his wrist, severing the connecting between his wand and the sack of letters. It dropped to the floor with a dull thud.

"Why did you have these, sir? Don't the owls normally just come to whoever the letter is addressed to?" she questioned.

"Things got out of hand after the announcement was published in The Daily Prophet on Tuesday. The Minister intervened. Only Albus was whimsical enough to risk the Statute of Secrecy by allowing a muggle neighbourhood to be overrun by owls," he referred to the episode with Potter's acceptance letters, "so your post got sent here while you were staying with your parents. The first two days were especially bad, it's slowed to more of a trickle now."

"I see," she said and nodded, accepting the explanation. For several long seconds the pair just looked at each other, awkwardly. He felt terribly out of place stood in her quarters, amongst her things. Their things. Ronald grinned and waved at him from a bookshelf. And their wedding photo was stood on the sideboard: Ronald kissing his wife soundly. Severus didn't know how to proceed, had no clue what to do or what to say to her. What were you supposed to talk about with someone who was mad with grief for the love of their life?

"Do you still intend to resume your classes on Monday?" he asked finally, resorting to dry facts.

"Yes. Yes, I do," she confirmed, not offering him anything to hang a conversation on.

"Right. Well, if you change your mind,..." he repeated himself.

"Yes, I know. But I'll be fine."

"Of course," he replied but he doubted it.

She was a wreck. He found himself considering her gaunt features once again. She really didn't look well. She looked positively crestfallen, her features sunken and pale. Her eyes were reddened and her hair was knotted and even messier than usual.

"I look a fright. I know," she interrupted his train of thought. "I'll tidy myself up for class, don't worry," she defended herself but there was no fight in her voice.

"I'm sorry, that was rather rude of me," he admitted.

He had been staring and she'd caught him at it, it would not do to pretend otherwise. It was not the Slytherin way to grovel or weasel one's way out of an embarrassing situation with poor excuses. It wasn't the Snape way either. So he apologised and corrected the offending behaviour.

"R-right. I- er- um..." she stammered as if an apology had been the last thing she'd expected.

"Thank you. For bringing me the letters," came her dulcet tones next.

"You're welcome, professor," he said.

Ugh, why was this so hard? Why was this conversation so stilted? Before this, they'd gotten along reasonably well. They hadn't been friends, but they could hold a civilised conversation. There'd been a few discussion of the curriculum, exchanges of ideas, analyses of the students. They'd even joked rather pleasantly at the wedding reception. But of course things had been different then. Now it seemed wholly inappropriate to talk about trivialities. Then he noticed how the delicate skin under her eyes was tinged pink and looked dry and a little raw. She must've been crying an awful lot for her skin to be so inflamed.

"Use cotton handkerchiefs instead of paper tissues," he advised.

"What?" she blurted, looking completely bewildered.

"Cotton. It is easier on the skin. Your eyes. They look sore," came his clarification.

"Oh. I suppose they are a bit. From all the crying, you see."

"Yes, well, try lanolin or petroleum jelly to soothe the area. If that doesn't help, you could ask Poppy for a healing salve but make sure it doesn't contain dittany, unless you don't mind going blind," he said evenly.

"Right," she mumbled and gave him a thoughtful look. "Would you like to stay for some tea, headmaster?" she offered.

"No. No, thank you. I should be going," declined Severus and she nodded. Once again, she moved to the side and he strode past her, out of the rooms and into the corridor.

"Mrs. Weasley..." he hesistated.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry."

That spurious smile was back, the one that betrayed that her heart wasn't in it.

"Thank you," she said and he nodded curtly and left.


End file.
